relationships which have always been observed by the American
Government. Ordinary considerations of courtesy require that those
who may speak to us frankly in confidence shall not be made to suffer
by being quoted and thus perhaps be exposed to misunderstanding and
criticism. On our part, in preparing a sound basis of action, favorable
as well as unfavorable matters have to be considered; yet there
is ordinarily no need of publicly advertising the shortcomings of
individuals and governments as set forth in reports on such unfavorable
matters. Such considerate action is not based on a desire to mislead or
to take advantage, but to save unnecessary irritation. For the purpose
of permitting complete freedom of discussion and of criticism without
the risk of giving offense, the United States Senate, as a matter of
its ordinary procedure, goes into secret session when discussing a
treaty submitted to it. There have, however, been several exceptions.
Thus, for instance, the debates on the Bayard-Chamberlain Fisheries
Treaty of 1888, on the Taft arbitration treaties of 1912, and on the
Nicaragua Treaty of 1916, were carried on, and concluded, in open
session. Many senators are in favor of making this the common practice.
Before the war, as Prof. John Bassett Moore, whose knowledge of
the records is unequaled, said to me, the State Department had no
secrets whatsoever, with the exception of personnel reports. We, too,
however, can depart from a well-established tradition, as is shown by
our diplomatic history during the war. I do not believe it will ever
be charged that in any matter big or little the American Government
sought narrow, selfish advantages. Secrecy due to such motives,
there was none. There was no American policy or enterprise that
needed concealment, apart from military policies and strategy during
a war. When I glanced over at the end of my mission in Peking the
extra-confidential cable correspondence, I was inwardly amazed by the
entire lack of anything that really needed concealing, in that closely
guarded dossier.
Yet American diplomacy did during the war fall somewhat under the spell
of the traditional methods still in vogue in Europe. We were not a
party to any secret engagements for the division of spoils after the
war, although from the time of the peace conference on, the influence
of the American Government was exercised mostly in secret, and the
agreements subsidiary to the general settlement were secretly signed.
These did not contain any apportionment of advantage to the United
States, but on the contrary were supposed to contain the nearest
approach to the equitable ideas of American policy which was, under
existing conditions, obtainable. But throughout this trying period
the conduct of American diplomacy did not rest on the foundation of a
continuous, frank appeal to the public opinion of our own nation or of
the world.
Even before the armistice some very important matters were dealt with
in this fashion. Though the permanent importance of the Lansing-Ishii
note as affecting in a concrete and specific way the definition of
rights and policies in the Far East is very doubtful, yet in its
immediate effect under all of the circumstances of the time, this was
certainly a noteworthy document to issue from the American foreign
office. Yet, its conception and execution was absolutely surrounded
with secrecy so that not even the high officials normally consulted in
such matters, with the exception of the Secretary of State himself,
were informed as to what was coming. This secrecy worked entirely in
the interest of the Japanese government. By privately giving out the
agreement in Japan and in China before the date when its publication
had been agreed upon, the Japanese government succeeded to a certain
extent and for a time, in giving this matter the appearance of a great
Japanese diplomatic victory and of a highly important concession on the
part of the United States.
It is not necessary to recall the general disillusionment that came
about when President Wilson agreed to the policy of secrecy at the
peace conference. Undoubtedly this decision was based on the motive
to secure, with a promptness required by the stress of the times,
a settlement which would in general commend itself to the sense of
justice of the world, although it might necessarily contain details
which, if published by themselves, would cause lengthy public
discussion and delay the final solution. If such an expectation was
entertained, it was not as a matter of fact fulfilled in the results
of these secret consultations. The method adopted did not favor the
broad and permanent view, but rather the more shortsighted bargaining
in which the old diplomacy excels. In their solutions neither the
consultations of the peace conference, nor the subsequent diplomatic
negotiations among the Allies, got beyond the old methods of bartering
the destinies of small and weak peoples, which had been used by the
Congresses of Vienna and of Berlin with disastrous results. The various
conferences of 1919 to 1920 recorded a complete return to the system
of secret diplomacy, to such an extent that it appeared constantly as
if the plenipotentiaries feared to let their doings be known. Even when
there was no reason from any point of view for concealment, information
came out in a roundabout fashion which left the public mind confused;
as for instance in the giving out of a decision regarding the fate of
Constantinople, and in the reports concerning the text of President
Wilson’s Adriatic memorandum which were current before its publication.
From the entanglements of this procedure American diplomacy did not
keep itself free, nor did it, at this time, assist the world in finding
a more straightforward method more in accord with American political
experience.
The disadvantages of secret methods of transacting public business have
been brought home to the American people through several incidental
matters of no small importance. It evidently was the intention of
President Wilson to reserve American rights as to the Island of Yap
which is a vital link in the chain of cable communication between
America and the Far East, and a reservation of this kind is indicated
by references in the official minutes, though not by a written
protocol. Without the knowledge of the United States, the Council of
the League of Nations later disposed of the mandate for all of the
North Pacific Islands. As this action was secret, it could not be
known whether the American interest bearing on Yap Island had been
safeguarded or not. It was stated as late as January 26, 1921, that the
American Government was not in possession of the greater part of the
minutes of the Peace Conference. Notwithstanding the protests of the
United States, Japan based her claim to the North Pacific Islands on
the secret treaties made during the war.
The secrecy of the peace conference, and the revelations before and
during its sessions, concerning the secret treaties for the division of
the spoils, produced a great disillusionment in the public mind. The
fact that the United States though asked to make enormous sacrifices
in the common cause had been kept in the dark concerning at least some
of these treaties, and particularly of those which affected its own
interest, did not inspire the American public with any confidence in
the general conduct of affairs among the nations.
After the adjournment of the conference the American President and
Government still continued to take a part in the various attempts
to settle outstanding questions, particularly with respect to
the Adriatic. When President Wilson towards the end of February,
1920, addressed a note to the allied powers concerning the Adriatic
settlement, the documents and negotiations which had gone before were
entirely unknown to the public. On December 9, 1919, an agreement
had been signed by Great Britain, France and the United States,
Undersecretary Polk signing for the latter. On January 9th, the British
and French premiers had agreed with the Italian premier on a modified
plan of settlement. On February 10th, the American Secretary of State
wrote a note containing President Wilson’s objections to the plan of
January 9th. The allied premiers replied to this note on February 18th.
All these agreements and this correspondence were kept secret, nor was
President Wilson’s final answer given out for some time; only more or
less accurate prognostications appeared in the press.
The American Government at this time was at a disadvantage in not
participating in the negotiations directly; the American ambassador
at Paris was invited from time to time to hear what the conference of
premiers cared to tell him, but the proceedings of the conference were
apparently not transmitted to the American Government. The British
press at the time quite generally expressed great dissatisfaction
with the methods followed by the diplomats. The _Westminster Gazette_
wrote: “The whole of both peoples is acutely concerned in the result.
We must, therefore, register a protest against the manner in which the
negotiations are being conducted. They are being carried on in secrecy,
only broken by unreliable rumors, by the three principal governments.
The peoples have a right to know what is being done in their name, so
that they may be able to protest, if need be, against decisions which
may affect their future relations.” The _Times_ protested: “We are not
going to stand by and have our friendship and relations with America
jeopardized by the proceedings of a triumvirate sitting behind closed
doors. The American democracy, we imagine, will not be less resolved to
assert their rights and stifle this effort at secret diplomacy.”
At this time Mr. Bonar Law, the government spokesman in the House of
Commons, denied absolutely that a harsh and uncompromising reply had
originally been drafted to President Wilson’s despatch, and that it
had subsequently been changed through the influence of Viscount Grey
and Lord Robert Cecil. The _Times_ characterized this denial as “an
example of verbal quibbling which inferior intelligences mistake for
diplomacy,” and maintained that “though it may be verbally true, it
conveys and is designed to convey what is untrue”; and the _Daily
Mail_ stated that the country owed a debt of gratitude to Lord Grey
for his activities in the matter. This all illustrates on how insecure
a foundation, and with what chances of confusion, public opinion has
to work in matters of foreign affairs where the practices of the old
diplomacy are followed.
The American people at this time very nearly lost patience with the
entire business, and turned away from European affairs with complete
disgust. This is the most outstanding effect produced by the secret
diplomacy of Europe as far as the American people are concerned. The
danger now is that their feeling of disgust and confusion, and their
impatience with the selfish and shortsighted manipulations of European
diplomacy, will over-emphasize the desire of America to live by and
for herself alone. If such a mood and temper should prevail, it would
be a great loss to America and to the world. At no time has the world
needed America more than at present, not so much from the point of view
of direct economic assistance, as on account of the fact that American
experience, principles and ideals constitute at the present time the
hope of the peoples of the whole world; and America could, if she
desired, exercise an enormous influence in making the popular desire
for such action active, vital and fruitful.
But even aside from the general confidence which is felt by the
peoples of Europe and Asia in the character and ideals of the United
States, there are a great many specific contributions which America
could make to the solution of European problems. No matter how much we
shall desire during the next decade to hold aloof from Europe and to
concentrate on our own affairs, nevertheless, should European affairs
go radically wrong through a constant denial and deception of the
hopes and aspirations of the people for honest and sensible solutions,
America in the end will again have to share the burden thus laid on the
shoulders of mankind.
The fundamental American principle that treaties have the force and
status of law contains in itself the promise of solving some of the
worst troubles of the world, if it could be generally applied. America
should continue, for her own safety and that of the world, to use her
whole influence for making that principle a part of the universal
public law. No international engagement shall be binding unless
ratified by a representative body, and published to all the nations.
Otherwise it shall be absolutely void, and shall not give rise to
any rights or obligations; in fact, an attempt to make an agreement
contrary to these conditions shall be considered an act hostile to the
peace of the world. That should be the recognized law.
Nothing shows so clearly how human development has halted at this
point, as the fact that it should still require an argument to
show the necessity of publicity and lawfulness with respect to the
most essential interests of the vast populations that make up the
international family.
The record and constant practice of the United States, as well as her
great actual and potential power, fit her above all others to be a
leader in the establishment of this principle. The American nation
possesses a great moral capital in the confidence and trust that
the peoples of the world repose in it. No matter if unsympathetic
chanceries should plot to prevent America from making her influence
felt in the affairs of the world, no matter how European diplomacy
may occasionally sneer at American idealism, the peoples themselves,
great and small, including particularly those areas so immensely
important--Russia and China--would willingly look to America for
leadership and guidance, with complete trust and confidence. When this
is fully realized, we shall also be able to judge how vitally what
America stands for in the world will be strengthened by a constant
adherence to open and straightforward methods in international
intercourse.
But America herself, it will be said, cannot fundamentally change the
spirit that animates foreign policies, and bring about the universal
use of honest and open practices. We are living under a system which is
the result of historic forces that have not yet fully spent themselves
and which put the potential enmity among nations in the foreground.
I do not believe that it is necessary to shut our eyes to reality and
to seek recourse in a Utopian policy, in order to escape the menace
inherent in current international practices. If America will only not
fall in line with the absolutist tradition in diplomacy, but will
emphasize at all times, with all her influence, those principles of
international conduct which our natural freedom from entanglements
has permitted us to develop as of actual experience, America will
contribute in a most potent manner to the realization of that new
spirit which must surely come to deliver humanity. That spirit is not a
mere ideal,--it is fortunately already present in much of international
practice; but it needs constantly to be followed up and supported
in order that it may become the customary and instinctive guide,
superseding such prejudices as are still current which favor tortuous
manipulation and perpetuate an uninformed and confused state of the
public mind.
In order to fulfil this promise and destiny the United States would
have to rely in the first place on the inherent merit of her ideals
and principles of action, and on the support which they will receive
from the approval of the peoples of the world. As far as organized
governments go, as distinguished from the people, some will be more
inclined than others to coöperate with the United States in a reform
of international practice. There is no question but that the great
majority of governments will thus coöperate, though some of the most
important may for a time be left on the other side.
With those peoples and governments who are in language, political
traditions and general impulses most closely related to us, there
should grow up a particularly strong feeling of confidence making
all our intercourse absolutely open. There certainly need not be any
secrets between the United States and the great commonwealths of Canada
and Australia. Our interests, our condition, our institutions, all make
for the closest understanding. Through them there may be also realized
that harmony which ought by every normal reason to exist between the
United States and the English people, and which is disturbed only from
time to time when the policy of the British government is determined
more from the point of view of the supposed needs of the British Empire
in India, than of that of the true tradition of the English-speaking
world. I do not think of treaties or of alliances, but of something
much stronger--an intimate understanding among peoples, based on mutual
trust and confidence, and the consciousness of a common destiny, common
purposes, and a common belief in the things which alone will prevent
civilization from extinguishing itself in senseless hatreds.
CONCLUSION
In modern diplomacy there still persists the image of the chess
players intent on their complicated game, planning each move with long
foresight of all the combinations that could possibly be organized
by the opponent. In the popular image, too, the great diplomat is
conceived as spinning a complicated web of actions and relationships in
which every detail is subordinate and subservient to a general dominant
purpose. Then comes the international publicist and with ingenuity
still more refined than that of the imagined diplomat, he reasons out
the innermost ambitions that dominate and inspire the makers of foreign
affairs. So it has remained possible for the most extravagant imaginary
constructions to be put forth in volumes of sober aspect, which purport
to give the key to diplomacy or to expose the pernicious ambitions of
this or that foreign office. It has become a game in which nothing is
impossible to the constructive imagination.
To any one familiar with the usual methods of foreign offices and
of diplomatic representatives, the idea that foreign affairs are
really handled in this manner, like mental legerdemain, becomes quite
grotesque. Complicated manipulations with respect to movements far
in the future, looking to still more distant results,--that kind of
diplomatic planning exists more in the imagination than in the actual
conduct of foreign affairs. In the majority of cases foreign offices
meet each situation as it arises, relying indeed on precedents and
having certain underlying aims and purposes, but giving most attention
to the facts immediately present and often satisfied with anything that
will ease a troublesome or embarrassing situation. Foreign offices
indeed differ greatly in the definiteness and constancy of their
objectives and the completeness with which they subordinate details to
central aims. The Russian foreign office always had the reputation of
great continuity of policy; it gave the central place to fundamental
objectives to which problems that arose from day to day could be
referred; and thus it solved them with a cumulative effect upon the
advancement of its political aims.
From the point of view of the older traditions of diplomacy, there
would be a decided advantage in definiteness of plan and in the
harmonious subordination of all details to the main idea. However, the
advantage of this method is frequently defeated through the narrowness
of the objects aimed at, when diplomatic policy is conceived in this
manner. Immediate purposes may indeed be achieved more readily, but
the permanent results will usually be barren or lead ultimately to
conflicts of forces. In such a system there is too much abstraction
from the multiform forces of actual life; and while those who pursue it
may flatter themselves that they are making history, they are not often
building in accordance with natural and historic forces.
The concept of diplomacy which has been criticized in these pages does
not exclude the possibility of immediate brilliant success; but its
ineffectiveness appears when we view it over longer periods of history.
It is built on too narrow a foundation. We have seen that even with
the greatest statesmen, any plan of action conceived in this manner
has such positive limitations that the very success in executing such
policies through a shrewd play of diplomatic forces, conjures up new
dangers and difficulties. The wisdom of no man nor small self-contained
group of men is at present sufficient to measure the needs of society
and to transform its impulses into effective action. A broader basis
for policy is needed. But the greatest weakness of the old method lies
in the fact that just at the very times when men are most in need of
confidence and of a spirit of reason and sane judgment, this mode of
action leaves the public mind in confusion, excitement and the darkest
fears.
If democracy means anything, its significance for the welfare of
humanity must lie in the value of allowing constantly more and more
minds to participate in the great things of the world. Not only would
such participation seem to be a natural right of the human mind but
also the things most worth while can be achieved only when the ablest
and best can freely lend their efforts. To all this a narrow system of
secret management by a limited hierarchy is hostile. The old diplomacy
rests entirely on skepticism as to the wisdom and self-control of
the people. The people are merely material for statesmanship. This
conception is blind to the fact that everything that is great in modern
life has arisen through the freedom with which talent may manifest
itself wherever found and that in all pursuits of humanity that are
worth while, innumerable minds coöperate, in a degree as warranted
by their capacity to bring about sound action and improvement. The
older diplomacy assumed that the people furnished only passive
material for statesmanship to work upon, and it saw in the public only
potentialities for vague and general influences which statesmanship in
turn was to mold and utilize. The greatest distance it went, was to
admit that national policy must rest on popular instinct; a principle
which is quite compatible with the practice of secret diplomacy. When
we come to talk of political instincts, however, we are dealing with
one of the vaguest and most indefinite concepts known to thought. These
instincts may be interpreted and given active expression as it suits
any diplomatic policy. Unfortunately the “instincts” most to the fore
are not usually helpful to calm and sound action. In international
affairs, an instinctive dislike or hatred of anything different has
again and again been made the basis of aggressive action, stirring
up otherwise peaceful populations to warlike and murderous intent.
Great national policies may often truly be said to rest on instinct
in the sense that undivided popular support is given to a policy from
a variety of motives which are not clearly reasoned out but which all
express themselves in an overpowering impulse which may be called
instinctive. Thus the Monroe policy in which the most fundamental
motive is the desire for peace and for the safety of the continental
position of the American nation, may be said to rest on the instinct of
self-preservation.
But it is quite plain that unless what is here called instinct can
be transformed into an intelligent, wise and discriminating public
opinion, such instinct is but a shifting sand, affording material which
may be molded into any desired form by an ambitious policy working
through suggestion and propaganda. Instinct can be transformed into
a true public policy only through publicity and through the training
of large groups of men to see things with true eyes and to judge with
reason and wisdom. Here is the crux of the matter. Secret diplomacy
treats all except the inner official ring as outsiders and “persons
without responsibility.” Among these outsiders there may be numerous
persons actually better qualified than the officials themselves,
through experience and thought, to judge of international affairs. No
one can here assume infallibility. Safe counsel can come only if the
entire intelligence and moral sentiment of a nation can find expression
and if its fittest individuals can concentrate their attention upon
every great problem as it arises. A sound, just, wise public policy
without publicity cannot be imagined. To consider publicity an evil,
to consider it as impeding the proper flow of international influences
and obstructing the solution of international difficulties, appears as
an unbelievable perversion when we consider the true implications of
such a thought.